He wrote poetry likewise, no doubt, in a large measure, because self-utterance was an essential law of his nature.

If he had a companion, he discoursed like one whose thoughts must needs run on in audible current; if he walked alone among his mountains, he murmured old songs.

He was like a pine grove, vocal as well as visible.

But to poetry he had dedicated himself as to the utterance of the highest truths brought within the range of his life's experience; and if his poetry has been accused of egotism, the charge has come from those who did not perceive that it was with a human, not a mere personal interest that he habitually watched the processes of his own mind.

He drew from the fountain that was nearest at hand what he hoped might be a refreshment to those far off.